The official with the clipboard had several questions to ask. I ignored him and searched around the medical center. The faces were all familiar; I caught my lovely wifes eyes. Well, I met them. They had not actually squirted across the room like a pair of ping-pong balls. Though given the strange circumstances, I would not entirely discount the possibility. I slid the bars of the medical teleportation device out of the way and tried to cross the room to her. The official with the clipboard intercepted me and pressed me with further questions. His manner was far more bellicose than was prudent at the time. I asked him to clear the path. Far more politely than I normally would given the circumstances, though this may be considered a lie as I had not really encountered anything even remotely resembling these circumstances before. He persisted. We reached an agreement.
I asked him a question.
The question was as follows. Do you want the large man to remove his hand from your face or do you wish him to continue to move forward, accelerating you into the ground where you will smash against the easily cleaned tiles like a watermelon tossed carelessly from a ninth story window.
I didnt actually have to ask the question. As a very wise, very scary, jiu-jitsu master once opined - If you have them by the face, their hearts and minds soon follow. I had possession of his heart and his mind. I also had his face grasped in my left hand and had bent him back, breaking his balance. The clipboard made some flailing motions against my face. I ignored them. That was something different. There is a difference between being hurt and being injured. If you are injured, seek medical help. If you are hurt, suck it up. The metal clip and edge of the clipboard should have been sufficient to cause injury, but the impacts seemed small and distant. This seemed to be a good moment for quiet reflection. The arm and hand that gripped laughing boy by the face were mine, but there were some differences. The proportions seemed slightly wrong. The muscles were larger, the knuckles blockier. The rest of my body agreed with my assessment that something was not necessarily rotten in the state of Denmark, but it was very, very, different. Hamlet had finished with his emo phase and had started dressing like Carmen Miranda while singing a few John Denver songs. I had a little more bulk, a little less fat, and bigger muscles and unlike Hamlet, did not have fruit on my hat or sunshine on my shoulders.
I righted the man with the clipboard.
Ill answer your questions as best as I can. I said. On the condition that you first do me the courtesy of answering mine. What the fuck just happened?
* * *
There are few things that cannot be endured if one has sufficient black coffee. If William Wallace had a flagon of the stuff while being drawn and quartered, everything would have been all right; although it is likely that Edward the Whoopsie would have added cream and sugar. A cup was out at the time. I had the pot. I took a large mouthful, swished it around my teeth and gums and then swallowed with satisfaction. The black blood of creativity was hot enough to scald, but I was only remotely aware of the heat. Things had changed.
The man with the clipboard had been replaced. In lieu of the man with the clipboard we had another man, also with a clipboard; but, and this is an important but, it was a different man, a different clipboard, and if Alice and the White Rabbit skipped by with signs that said Eat Me I would not be surprised. Well not very surprised. The man with the clipboard, identified by a nametag as Doctor Fitchenhertz, was older, with a distinguished head of grey hair, small, square spectacles and the demeanor of calm, rational academia. He apologized profusely between descriptions of Portal Physics, Multidimensional Transfer Rates, and something he described as consciousness splicing. I was able to keep up with the consciousness splicing part of it and the apologies.
Let me get this straight. My lovely wife asked. You opened a portal between your world and ours and accidentally sucked us in. Good so far?
The good doctor Fits and Spurts nodded. I drank more coffee.
When you realized that you manifested the portal in the presence of people, you tried to close it down and reverse the effect. Cindy continued. But while you were successful in doing so, you imprinted us on this universe.
Were Schrdingers cads? Someone opined; following it with a burst of slightly cold, nervous, laughter.
Essentially yes. While caught in the flux you existed simultaneously in a positive stage in regards to both worlds. The good doctor repeated. Our observation of that state; the process of closing the portal, caused simultaneous physical manifestation of that state.
So back in our New York. Cindy said with a slight catch in her voice. Were all standing around wondering what just happened?
Exactly. But sending you back has the potential to cause us to simultaneously exist in the same state in the same multidimensional reality, which has the potential to cause issues. The Doctor said with a gentle, sincere tone.
Explosive issues. I added darkly. The physical constants of our universes are not precisely aligned, so the duplication of matter of different physical constants could cause a serious shift at the quantum level.
Potentially cracking your world and this one like an egg. Doctor Fichenhertz concluded. So you are stuck here I am afraid, at least until I can figure out a physical transfer that duplicates our original mistakeerr misapplication of portal technology.
There are times for honesty. There are times for brutal honesty. There are times when the clearest thing to say is also the cruelest. So we may never see our friends and family again. I spoke carefully around a swiftly growing lump in my throat. But they dont miss us, because we are still there; because we never really left.
Cindy started crying. I might have leaked a tear as well, but I held her and tried to ignore my own swirling emotions.
It might not be all bad. Doctor Fichenhertz said with a forced cheer. The dimensional energies you were all subjected to in the process of simultaneous existence has likely made some fundamental changes to your physiologies. The initial readings we took when you manifested were in the upper percentile of the Cole Scale.
You mean? Cindy asked.
Superpowers.
* * *
I asked him a question.
The question was as follows. Do you want the large man to remove his hand from your face or do you wish him to continue to move forward, accelerating you into the ground where you will smash against the easily cleaned tiles like a watermelon tossed carelessly from a ninth story window.
I didnt actually have to ask the question. As a very wise, very scary, jiu-jitsu master once opined - If you have them by the face, their hearts and minds soon follow. I had possession of his heart and his mind. I also had his face grasped in my left hand and had bent him back, breaking his balance. The clipboard made some flailing motions against my face. I ignored them. That was something different. There is a difference between being hurt and being injured. If you are injured, seek medical help. If you are hurt, suck it up. The metal clip and edge of the clipboard should have been sufficient to cause injury, but the impacts seemed small and distant. This seemed to be a good moment for quiet reflection. The arm and hand that gripped laughing boy by the face were mine, but there were some differences. The proportions seemed slightly wrong. The muscles were larger, the knuckles blockier. The rest of my body agreed with my assessment that something was not necessarily rotten in the state of Denmark, but it was very, very, different. Hamlet had finished with his emo phase and had started dressing like Carmen Miranda while singing a few John Denver songs. I had a little more bulk, a little less fat, and bigger muscles and unlike Hamlet, did not have fruit on my hat or sunshine on my shoulders.
I righted the man with the clipboard.
Ill answer your questions as best as I can. I said. On the condition that you first do me the courtesy of answering mine. What the fuck just happened?
* * *
There are few things that cannot be endured if one has sufficient black coffee. If William Wallace had a flagon of the stuff while being drawn and quartered, everything would have been all right; although it is likely that Edward the Whoopsie would have added cream and sugar. A cup was out at the time. I had the pot. I took a large mouthful, swished it around my teeth and gums and then swallowed with satisfaction. The black blood of creativity was hot enough to scald, but I was only remotely aware of the heat. Things had changed.
The man with the clipboard had been replaced. In lieu of the man with the clipboard we had another man, also with a clipboard; but, and this is an important but, it was a different man, a different clipboard, and if Alice and the White Rabbit skipped by with signs that said Eat Me I would not be surprised. Well not very surprised. The man with the clipboard, identified by a nametag as Doctor Fitchenhertz, was older, with a distinguished head of grey hair, small, square spectacles and the demeanor of calm, rational academia. He apologized profusely between descriptions of Portal Physics, Multidimensional Transfer Rates, and something he described as consciousness splicing. I was able to keep up with the consciousness splicing part of it and the apologies.
Let me get this straight. My lovely wife asked. You opened a portal between your world and ours and accidentally sucked us in. Good so far?
The good doctor Fits and Spurts nodded. I drank more coffee.
When you realized that you manifested the portal in the presence of people, you tried to close it down and reverse the effect. Cindy continued. But while you were successful in doing so, you imprinted us on this universe.
Were Schrdingers cads? Someone opined; following it with a burst of slightly cold, nervous, laughter.
Essentially yes. While caught in the flux you existed simultaneously in a positive stage in regards to both worlds. The good doctor repeated. Our observation of that state; the process of closing the portal, caused simultaneous physical manifestation of that state.
So back in our New York. Cindy said with a slight catch in her voice. Were all standing around wondering what just happened?
Exactly. But sending you back has the potential to cause us to simultaneously exist in the same state in the same multidimensional reality, which has the potential to cause issues. The Doctor said with a gentle, sincere tone.
Explosive issues. I added darkly. The physical constants of our universes are not precisely aligned, so the duplication of matter of different physical constants could cause a serious shift at the quantum level.
Potentially cracking your world and this one like an egg. Doctor Fichenhertz concluded. So you are stuck here I am afraid, at least until I can figure out a physical transfer that duplicates our original mistakeerr misapplication of portal technology.
There are times for honesty. There are times for brutal honesty. There are times when the clearest thing to say is also the cruelest. So we may never see our friends and family again. I spoke carefully around a swiftly growing lump in my throat. But they dont miss us, because we are still there; because we never really left.
Cindy started crying. I might have leaked a tear as well, but I held her and tried to ignore my own swirling emotions.
It might not be all bad. Doctor Fichenhertz said with a forced cheer. The dimensional energies you were all subjected to in the process of simultaneous existence has likely made some fundamental changes to your physiologies. The initial readings we took when you manifested were in the upper percentile of the Cole Scale.
You mean? Cindy asked.
Superpowers.
* * *